Page 51 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

“I like that you’re shy about your work,” Piper said from the door. “But I’m not going to stop giving you compliments. Your work is the best I’ve ever seen. You don’t have to acknowledge my comments. You don’t even have to say thank you. But I’m not going to stop telling you how much I love it.”

My frame deflated. She was just trying to be nice and I’d left her standing at the door. Then she’d said exactly the right thing. I glanced over my shoulder and nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her shoes clicked on the floor as she came inside. As I plated the raw meat, the door clicked shut.

She went to the living room, setting down her purse on my coffee table. She bent and skimmed her fingertips over the table’s top, smiling as she admired the piece. But she didn’t gush over it like I’d expected. She let those dimples and the way her hands lingered on the wood tell me how much she liked it.

“Want something to drink?” I asked.

“Sure.” She sat down on my leather couch. “Whatever you’re having is fine with me.”

I washed my hands, then went to the fridge, getting out two bottles of beer. I popped the tops, tossing them into the garbage, then delivered one to Piper.

“I haven’t tried this yet.” She inspected the label before tipping it back to her lips.

“It’s a local brewery. They’re good.” I took a drink from my own bottle, still standing in the middle of the room.

Should I sit with her? Make small talk? Getting too close was dangerous. We’d never make it to dinner once that spark ignited. And I hated small talk.

I swallowed another gulp of beer. “I’m going to get the grill going.”

“Okay.” She stayed seated, turning her attention to the end table at her side. Again, she smiled at my work, touching it gently, but didn’t say anything.

I took it as my cue to escape outside and light the grill on the porch.

This isn’t a date. I repeated it over and over as I drained the rest of my beer, then I trudged back inside. This wasn’t a date. So there was no reason to avoid Piper. Right?

“Can I set the table?” Piper asked, standing from the couch as I went to the cabinet for my favorite seasoning.

“Sure.” Maybe it would be easier if she was moving around and making this dinner more of a joint effort. “Plates are in the cabinet next to the sink. Silverware in the drawer underneath.”

“Got it.”

While she bustled around the kitchen, I seasoned the pork chops. With every shake of the bottle, I inhaled a deep breath. After the fourth, my shoulders began to relax.

“Want another beer?” she asked as she set a plate on the table.

“Sure.” I glanced over my shoulder in time to see her guzzle the rest of her own beer. Okay, maybe I wasn’t the only one nervous about this dinner.

She went to the fridge, getting us each another beer. She handed me mine as I took the chops outside to the grill. Piper followed me out, taking a seat in the smaller chair as I went to the grill and put on the meat.

“They’re comfortable.” She ran her hand over the arm of the chair, then she grinned. “That was a fact, not a compliment.”

I chuckled. Her joke lightened my mood, and I crossed the porch. It was a risk to sit next to her, but one I took as I sank into the other chair. We sat quietly, looking out into the trees as we drank these beers more slowly than the first.

After about three minutes, the rest of my anxiety just blew away. My body relaxed into the seat. Sitting here with Piper was easy, like we’d done it for years, not moments. Nothing about this dinner needed to be awkward.

This was Piper. She wasn’t some strange woman I’d asked on a first date. We both knew and understood our boundaries.

We were lovers. We were neighbors. Nothing more. When tonight was over, she’d go to her property while I stayed on mine.

“How goes the remodel?” I asked.

“Good. They’re starting to put walls back in place so it feels like we’re finally getting somewhere.”

“And work?”

“Also good.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “This was the best week I’ve had in a long time.”